


6. Picking apples

by gwevyan



Series: 31 Days of Halloween (and Autumn) Prompt Challenge [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2465396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwevyan/pseuds/gwevyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean pick apples.  Garth thinks they spend too much time together.  (31 Days of Halloween prompt challenge)</p>
            </blockquote>





	6. Picking apples

Dean sent Garth another wary look in the rear-view mirror as he pulled into a parking space.  “You’re really sure this is gonna work?”

“Definitely,” Garth reassured.  Dean didn’t look convinced, but Sam smacked him on the shoulder and raised his eyebrows.

“Dude,” he said.  “I checked it myself.  The ritual’s good, the witch’s curse is holding even though she’s dead, but the ritual is gonna take care of it.  It’s gonna work.”

Garth watched as the brothers did some kind of silent communication involving some serious eyebrow movement and head tilts.  Finally, Dean clicked his tongue, and they opened their doors and got out of the car in perfect unison.

Garth had somehow forgotten just how weird it could be working with the Winchester brothers.

They hurried into the store. 

“I still don’t get why we had to come to this hippy granola place instead a regular grocery store,” Dean grumbled.

“It’s a ritual for a bountiful harvest,” Sam reminded him, his voice heavy like he’d said this a million times already and he couldn’t believe his brother could be so slow.  “Don’t you think it’s better to get apples that are actually in season?”

“If they’re growing, they’re in season.”

“In Argentina, maybe.”

“So?  Argentina’s somewhere.”

“We need local apples because we’re trying to cancel a curse on the harvest _here_ , not in Argentina, dumbass.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“Okay,” Garth said loudly.  “Should I get a cart?”

The brothers swivelled around (in perfect unison again, like they were some kinda robots) and shot him near-identical glares.  Then they turned the glares on each other.

“ _He_ can carry them,” they said together.

“You’ve got gorilla arms, you can carry more.”

“ _You_ wanted to get apples from another hemisphere.”

The bickering kept up all the way across the store to the produce section until Dean and Sam stopped in front of the large apple display.  Red, yellow, orange, green, and mottled apples lay nestled in their stacked crates, with dried wheat stalks, gourds, and small pumpkins making a nice autumnal scene.  Garth considered the wide variety.  “So, which ones are cheapest, and let’s get a bushel and go.”

Dean shook his head.  “Granny smiths are cheapest, we don’t want those.”

Garth frowned at him.  “Why not?”

“Because the ritual only needs the bushel of apples to sit there on the floor and look pretty,” Dean pointed out.  “We’re not just gonna throw ‘em away afterwards, so we need to pick out good ones.”

Sam nodded, like this made perfect sense.

Garth was just more confused.

“Red Delicious is out,” Sam said to Dean.

“Mhmm.”  They stood shoulder to shoulder, arms folded over their chests, sharp gazes roving intently over the apples.  “You don’t like Golden Delicious, right?”

“Yeah.  What about Honeycrisps?”

“They’re okay,” Dean said, in a tone that sounded like he was being grudgingly generous.  “Kinda watery for pie, though.”

Sam snorted.  “Of course that’s your problem.  They make good sauce, though.”

“So do Jonathans,” Dean argued, picking up a dark red apple and shaking it in Sam’s face.  “But they make good pie, too, so we can have both.”

“Did you two work, like, a case in a haunted apple factory or something?” Garth asked.  Because sudden encyclopedic knowledge of apples was just plain weird, even for these guys, and Garth didn’t quite know what was going on.

They did their twin turn-and-stare thing.  “No,” they said together.  Then,

“Dean knows everything about every kind of pie it’s possible to make.”  And,

“Sam doesn’t like to eat anything that doesn’t come with dirt on it, remember?  I had to learn to cook this shit or he’d’a starved.”

-came at the same time.

The brothers glared at each other, then turned back to the apples.

“Jonalicious?”

“No, you have to keep those refrigerated, remember?  I sent some in your lunchbox once and you complained because you said they were getting mealy by lunch time.  Northern Spy?”

“You just like the name.  They make terrible pie, you even said so yourself.  Oh, hey, look, there’s Cameos.”

“ _Cameos_.”

“Those make good pie, right?  I know they cook down good for sauce.”

“Yeah, they do…isn’t it kinda early for those, though?”

“Little bit, yeah…I wonder if they won’t be as juicy.”

Garth gusted out a sigh and hopped up to sit on the side of the tomato display.  The boys were obviously gonna be a while.


End file.
